


Collateral

by Allowisp



Category: League of Legends
Genre: M/M, Magic, kissing card trick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 08:43:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1934331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allowisp/pseuds/Allowisp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twisted Fate and Graves meet up to settle their score. The confrontation forces Fate to face his regrets and go all in for what he really wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collateral

**Author's Note:**

  * For [browneyedrecluse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/browneyedrecluse/gifts).



> I wrote this a while back as a present for a friend who couldn't find any Twisted Fate/Graves fanfiction on the internet despite much desperate searching. It just occurred to me I might as well post this up here in case anyone else out there's in the same situation.

**Collateral**

They drew four aces on the final hand—both of them, together. That was the moment, so many years ago, when Twisted Fate learned that Graves was destined to surprise him. He had this spark, just like magic, and it never failed; Graves shuffled his fortunes by the night, and Fate had never felt so alive. 

They were partners. They survived together. They made the underworld work for them. All their lives, they’d had no one to bet on, and suddenly they had each other. Those times were rich and plentiful, the best winning streak Fate ever had. There was the money, and then there was turning in at the end of the night with somebody to watch his back. Graves was always priming his stolen gun as Fate turned his hat down and leaned against the wall of whatever hole they were in—the reason for Graves keeping watch first being that he saw better at dawn, whereas Fate owned the dusk. And Graves slept with his hand on it, too, and that came in handy for them in a pinch enough times that Fate wondered if Graves ever really slept. That was good for Fate, who had nothing but his charm and fast feet to save himself on the streets. Come to think of it, Fate recalled, he never woke up to a punch in the gut again after Graves and he shook hands that first night. 

Dependability was the most surprising thing there could ever be to a man who grew up like Fate. He was twisty himself, it was in his nickname, and he’d never counted on anyone else but himself. Every day he thought he’d find out that Graves had double-crossed him, and every day, he was surprised. Every day there was Graves on guard while he slept, and every night there was the double heist. Graves had a mind for it, just like Fate, and nobody could take them down. 

The day Fate sold Graves out, he thought it was a risky play. He thought Graves would know what was coming and pull a counter-trick. He never really thought he would win. But Graves went into it all unsuspecting, and that was the most surprising thing Fate had ever seen: that somehow, he’d found someone who would bet on him, no questions asked— _him!_ —and it was Fate’s own fault that was gone. 

Fate shuffled the deck of cards in his hand. They were old and charred at the edges, much like the gambler himself; he wasn’t as young as he used to be. And this was _that_ special deck, which he’d carried since he and Graves met. It was the only thing to use, he figured, to bring this to an end. They were meeting up tonight to settle the score, just the two of them, in this seedy, broken-down den of thieves. They’d finally decided it was time, and only one of them would walk out alive. The League wasn’t permanent enough. They needed a resolution, and now. 

The door banged open and hit the smokestained wall of the tavern. Graves glowered there, nostrils flared, immense and rough around the edges and exactly as Fate always thought of him. He had a new shotgun now, but it was modeled after the old. It was an icon of their past; Graves protected him once. But Fate had broken that and chosen a different path, and now Graves came after him with a rifle named Destiny. 

“You never did care much about collateral damage,” said Fate. As was his habit, he sat as close as possible to the door. 

“You’re one to talk,” said Graves. Then: “ _CLEAR THE ROOM, NOW!_ ” 

Not even Fate had time to move before Graves lowered his shotgun. He fired a round, and Fate heard before he saw the hiss then, the explosion of smoke that billowed up to surround them. 

Fate threw himself backward, upending his table and chair, barely fast enough. Graves grunted as the table met his gut, and Fate saw him grimace as smoke swallowed up his face. From that point on, Fate couldn’t see anything, and he slipped back carefully on his hands and knees, retreating through the room. He made a minimum of noise, and that was covered by the chaos of people stampeding from the bar. Fate had been caught alone too many times in holes like this to ever neglect to memorize their layouts the second he walked in. This was how he lived without Graves, whose preferred tactic at all times since Fate betrayed him was to discard all concern for himself and the world and decimate anything in his way. Never again did he look back, not anymore. 

Fate rolled back under panic and haze, not bothering with stealth anymore. He heard the cacophony of furniture smashing as Graves stormed forward and reduced every obstacle to splinters. They knew each other too well, he realized. Graves knew Fate was going for the bar. Fate intended to take cover there and play his cards just as Graves came close enough. He could teleport out the door behind Graves and bring down the house, burying Graves inside. 

Graves knew Fate’s tactics—retreat and then strike. He knew Fate grew up an outmatched outsider who had to find ways to beat the odds. Fate wasn’t a weak man, but he wasn’t the strongest either, and when the whole world was against him, he had to constantly be ready to run. 

But Graves was still smashing forward. What was he playing? Fate stiffened, on his guard. 

The noise stopped. Silence reigned, broken only by Graves panting. 

Fate couldn’t speak, and he could hardly breathe without giving away his position—the side of the bar, crouched in decent cover, poised to duck behind the tarnished counter or into the reeking kitchens. He listened to his old partner, thought of the emptiness at his back now, and felt very alone. 

The smoke began to clear. 

Fate had an idea of where Graves was, but he bided his time. Soon enough, he could pick out Graves’ outline in the haze. He was distinctive, broad and strong, but also weathered. His head hung down. Fate saw his shoulders rise and fall, rise and fall, again. Smog roiled around him. 

Fate gingerly picked up half of a broken glass and threw it hard to one side of the room. It shattered, and Graves’s head snapped around, giving Fate the fraction of an instant he needed to Gate to what was now Graves’s blind side and stun him with a card. Fate gripped Graves’s coat and forced him to the ground, kicking the shotgun Destiny away. He got a red card to Graves’s throat at the exact moment the stun wore off. 

“Stay down,” warned Fate, as rage filled Graves’s eyes. 

“I’d still get you before I bleed out.” 

“What are you trying to pull?” 

“You want me dead?” countered Graves. “What’re you waiting for?” 

He could taste Malcolm’s breath. He saw the night they met. He wanted more than anything to go back. 

Graves saw that Fate was frozen and took advantage. He gripped Fate’s wrist and forced it back until the red card glowed at Fate’s own throat. “Listen up, Fate,” he growled. “Listen good.” He leaned in close and snarled. “Let me tell you something about us you maybe don’t know. Remember when you sold me out? I knew you were up to something back then. But I didn’t think you’d do this. I thought you had something else planned and everything would be all right for us. When I got to the darkness and the pit and the rats, all I could think was, that wasn’t the end. You got your magic, what you always wanted. You could save me in a blink.” He shook. “But _you never came_ —because you didn’t care anymore!” 

“I made a mistake,” whispered Fate. “It’s worse because I cared. I’m paying for it every day.” 

“You want to know what I thought about, while I was in there?” said Graves. “When I had my wits about me, I made every plan under the sun. I thought about locking you up where I was. I still think about it.” His voice dropped. “But when I got to my worst… Like some kinda beat-up dog, I wanted to go back to before everything broke. I’d think about you like you never crossed me and I wasn’t where I was. I had the hate, I had the rage. It never went away. But in a place like that, I needed something good. And there was only ever one real, good thing in my life.” 

_Four aces in both their hands_ . _They stared each other down across the table._

Graves’s eyes were fixed on Fate with an unwavering intensity. “I thought you felt the same way.” 

_Fate thought there was going to be a showdown. That was fine. He’d known his luck was running out. Outside, the night’s air was humid, but still better than the cigar smoke in the den. Twisted Fate took a deep breath and sighed. In front of him, the other man turned and leaned against the building’s wall._

_“You’re somethin’ else,” said the man with the clunky shotgun—too big for him, likely stolen. “Didn’t see that coming.”_

_“Funny how that deck had eight aces,” agreed Fate, flashing his most charming smile._

_“You’re somethin’ else,” he repeated. “What else have you got up your sleeves?”_

_“Oh, tricks I guarantee you’ve never seen.”_

_“I’m watching. Impress me.”_

_Twisted Fate tipped his tattered hat obligingly and bowed. “I’ll need a volunteer from the audience.”_

“Malcolm,” said Fate. “I do. Please. Let me show you that trick again.” 

Guardedly: “Which one are you talking about?” By his expression, however, Graves knew. 

_“Hold on. What’re you going to do?”_

Fate turned the card he held around. It was the King of Hearts. 

_“Funny how this deck only has one of each of these,” joked Fate, brandishing the cards he’d let slip into his hands. “You’ll pick one—the King or the Jack of Hearts.”_

Graves glanced to Fate’s other hand, which already held the Jack. 

_“What a choice.” The man with the shotgun shrugged. “You pick.”_

_Fate took the Jack of Hearts. He’d always seen a little of himself in the card, and if he’d learned any habit on the streets, it was to always pick himself when things came down to the wire._

“I guess this one reminds me of you,” said Graves, slowly, in answer to the question that Fate hadn’t asked. He took the Jack of Hearts. 

When it came down to a choice between him and Fate, it would seem, Graves was inclined to choose Fate. Fate had made the opposite decision, first in which card he should choose and then in which man. Here, Graves could only be implying heavily that he wouldn’t have thrown Fate away. 

“Don’t rip it apart just yet.” With effort, Fate smiled. “Fold it in half now and put it in your mouth.” 

“This is the same deck, isn’t it?” asked Graves. He touched the crease that ran down the center of his card. 

“Smart guy. I see I can’t fool you. Do you remember the rest?” 

_“All right, say I do that. What next?”_

_“Our cards will switch places—just as soon as you give me a kiss.”_

“Yeah.” 

_Fate usually did this with a peck, a playful one, not to be remembered. Sometimes he made it a little more risqué to see how his audience would react. But to this stranger, it seemed a kiss meant something else, and it seemed that he’d never done it before._

“Your move, then.” Fate placed the folded King in his own mouth. 

_Fate had to give him credit. He hadn’t even been embarrassed—he’d just decided to do it. And it was long and lingering and intense, for all that their mouths remained closed. This man’s hands were on his back, in his hair; meanwhile, Fate lost track of his own. He forgot himself. He felt with someone else. When they broke apart, he felt like he’d never breathed before._

They never spoke about it as more than a magic trick, and there hadn’t been a second kiss. Fate had sensed the danger of that and hadn’t given in. He had to keep up some pretense of distance, or he could lose everything. 

“No,” said Graves. “You kiss me this time.” 

That was Malcolm—always surprising him, inviting him to play his hand, with an unspoken promise that he wouldn’t be alone when he did. It took so much willpower for Fate to believe. In the end, he still couldn’t, no matter how frantically he searched Graves’s eyes. It was with a desperate need to be proven wrong in his doubt that he caressed Graves’s face and kissed him. “Come back,” he tried to whisper against Graves’s lips. “I’m sorry. I don’t deserve you. Don’t leave me—come back.” Difficult, with a card on his tongue. The impediment reminded him to magically switch them. There was a way to do that original trick mundanely, but he hadn’t needed to in some time. 

Graves pulled back and spat his card out in his hand. “I felt that,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes at Fate. 

Fate’s heart sank. He turned his head and slipped the folded card out of his mouth. “Check yours.” 

Graves did. After a moment, his eyes softened, and he raised an eyebrow. “Nice one. Nice and bold.” 

Fate smiled and unfolded his own card. He’d switched one-half of their cards only—magically—so that the traditional-style reversed figures on the face were one Jack and one King instead of twin Jacks or twin Kings. “What do you think?” 

“It looks all right to me.” 

Fate swallowed hard and searched Graves’s eyes. “Malcolm. Please.” He rested his fingertips on Graves’s jaw. “I want to go back.” 

“I don’t think either of us has that kinda magic.” 

“I know. I can’t fix what I did. But it’s been hell, acting like there’s only bad between us. Let me show you how much I need you.” 

In an impossible moment, Graves’s arms circled around Fate’s waist and pulled him in, chest to chest. “Go ahead.” Warm breath rolled over Fate’s lips, and when he looked in Graves’s eyes he at last found Malcolm there, his partner, the magic they had never lost. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. If you want more of my work, you can visit:  
> [A SITE WRITTEN BY PENGUINS](http://writtenbypenguins.blogspot.com/p/read-anything.html)  
> ... home to a somewhat organized archive.


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